


You'd Like To Hear A Song That Sings Everything's All Right

by tb_ll57



Series: Nor Perish and Decay [5]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Background Relationships, Gen, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 19:27:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2121861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tb_ll57/pseuds/tb_ll57
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world begins to fade<br/>and all the shapes and shades<br/>that made the colours seem<br/>when it suddenly turned grey<br/>that they're no longer there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You'd Like To Hear A Song That Sings Everything's All Right

He saw her a moment before he felt her buzz. She was a slight Immortal, with thin legs bare to mid-thigh and a fur-collared coat bundled tight about her narrow torso. For a moment he thought it was Amanda, MacLeod’s erstwhile lover—- but when she turned toward his presence, he saw her skin tone and re-evaluated. The woman was black.

They were near enough for their eyes to meet, exposed in the car lot, with sputtering street lamps providing plenty illumination. Another night he might have made a dashing retreat, but the woman was between him and his car. Adam let out his breath in a sigh, jingling his keys in his palm.

'I don’t want a fight,' he said, raising his voice slightly over the distance.

She relaxed visibly. 'Neither do I,' she answered shortly. She fumbled in her coat—- he tensed, even if she had passed on a Challenge—- but she only removed a pack of smokes. She watched him suspiciously while she lit her cigarette and put it to her mouth. He picked up his path again, meaning to give her a wide berth; but when he was close enough to see her face, a jolt of recognition hit him. He slowed, and halted.

'Do I—-'

'Do I know you?' she interrupted.

Adam moved a cautious step closer, hands peaceably out to his sides. 'Karen?' he hazarded.

'Claudia,' she corrected. 'Claudia Jardine.'

It came back abruptly. 'The pianist,' he recalled. If she was one of MacLeod’s projects, it explained why she hadn’t wanted a Challenge with him. He remembered her as a pretty slip of a girl with a demanding ego. Her hair was still short, the bouncy, tawny curls of African heritage, her make-up tasteful and mature. Formally, he held out his hand, and after a moment she took it in hers. 'It’s nice to see you again, Claudia,' he said.

'Thank you,' Claudia replied, shaking his hand loosely and briefly. She hesitated with her fingers still in his. 'You were the one who was dating the sick girl, weren’t you?'

Even after nine years, it was like a punch to the chest. He found it hard to breathe, and dropped Claudia’s hand. 'Yes,' he managed.

She put the cigarette to her lips again, covering her mouth with her hand for a moment while she looked at him nervously. 'How—-' She moved the cigarette. 'How is she?'

'She died,' Adam answered distantly. 'Shortly after we met, actually.'

Her genuine sympathy surprised him. 'I’m so sorry. It’s Adam, isn’t it? I’m very sorry for your loss.'

The feeling of being socked was easing, even if the image of Alexa’s last days was suddenly etched into his eyelids. 'Thank you.' He cleared his throat softly. 'I didn’t know you were in town,' he said. 'Giving a concert?'

'Taking a break, actually.' She took a deep draw, and the ash at the tip of the fag fell to the ground as she flicked it casually. 'I—- actually, I haven’t held a concert in—- almost two years.' Her dark eyes searched through the parking lot restlessly. 'I tell everyone I’m planning to record. I even met with a studio rep tonight.' She glanced back at the building they both exited, an elegant London high-rise that held multiple offices.

'Meeting didn’t go well?' he finished gently.

She managed a quick, broken little smile. 'Not really.'

Adam looked away from her to the lot again. It was empty except for themselves, but it was almost dusk. Her meeting must have been hours ago, he realised, and wished he didn’t feel quite so sorry for her suddenly. He couldn’t remember liking her before, but she didn’t seem all that bad tonight. If a bit lacking in polish. Her strident American accent didn’t even bother him all that much.

'You should get inside,' he said eventually. 'London isn’t safe at night.'

'No.' She didn’t elaborate, and he wondered which part she was answering. He edged past her, glancing at his car. He inclined his head to her. 'Nice to see you again,' he repeated.

'You too.' Another smile, this one superficial and perfunctory. She lit a new cigarette with the old one, and ground the burnt-out stub beneath her pump.

He made it to his car with his back to her, but as he slid into the driver’s seat he couldn’t avoid facing her direction again. She hadn’t moved. She stood there in the empty lane hunched in on herself, one foot tapping nervously.

He left the door open as he walked back to her. She jumped when he addressed her.

'There’s a pub up the road,' he said.

'Is there?' She blew smoke away from him. 'There’s a pub on every corner in this country.'

He smiled his own obligatory smile at the half-hearted joke. 'Perhaps you’d join me for a burger.'

'I don’t eat meat,' Claudia said.

He wasn’t surprised. 'You can watch while I do, then.'

Her delicate face turned toward him. 'Why are you being nice to me?'

'It’s one of the little benefits of civilisation.' She was half-convinced. He gestured to the car, not gallant, not pushy, just a straightforward wave; finally she nodded. He waited while she ground out the second fag, and then he walked her to his car.

 

**

 

Claudia dragged the chip through the puddle of catsup. 'At first he was a big help, but he had his own life. Then he went off to Tibet or China or something and we lost touch.'

'He lost a student,' Adam explained gently. 'It was a hard time for everybody involved.'

'I’m not blaming him,' Claudia countered quickly. 'It’s just that I didn’t really know a lot of Immortals, you see?' Her mouth twisted. 'The ones I did know, I did a fantastic job of alienating. Even Duncan, and he’s known me since I was a baby.'

It had taken three hours and a bottle of house red, but Adam sensed they were nearing a confession. It was plain enough that Claudia was lonely, possibly even depressed. He might not have been as sympathetic on another day, but she’d got him thinking about Alexa—- and maybe he’d been a little lonely himself, lately.

'What about that one who was trying to kill you?' he ventured. 'The actor.'

'Walter.' She smiled wryly, and dropped her little chin onto her hand. 'He’s not a bad guy, he just... he’s got some grand notion of me being this Immortal genius. It was fun at first, but he wanted to run my life. He arranged auditions, tours, record deals, book deals—- I never had time to just be me. If Walter had his way I’d spend the next sixty years locked in Carnegie Hall.'

'How’d you get rid of him?'

She waved the chip. 'He fell in love with a new protégé. Jacques Boyet. A novelist.'

'Immortal?'

'I didn’t ask.' She dropped her head so that he couldn’t see her face. 'It’s been hard since he’s been gone,' she admitted, her voice small and strained. 'Being Immortal—- it was such a grand idea at first. Then one day I was looking at myself in the mirror—- I used to buy all these products, you know, face washes and anti-ageing creams and wrinkle reducers—- and it hit me all of a sudden that I was never going to get any older. I’d never have to think about laugh lines or grey hairs.' Her hand moved to cover her mouth. He head to lean closer to hear her. 'I’ll never change,' she whispered.

He reached for his wine, and finished the last of his glass. He picked at a tiny spot of sediment with one finger. 'The early years are the hardest,' he said carefully, not looking at her. 'Anger. Questions. Even despair. I know.'

When he looked, she was already watching him, her eyes a little red. 'Did you go through it?' she asked.

He had no memories of his early years, a situation that had long ceased to bother him. He thought about lying, but changed his mind. 'I still do,' he said instead. 'Not all the time. Sometimes. When I lose a friend—- a Mortal. When I wish I could be just like them. When I have to move because it’s been too long and someone might get curious that I haven’t aged.'

She covered her eyes this time. 'I’ve thought of that,' she murmured. 'It scares the shit out of me.'

An impulse made him reach for her hand, draw it away from her face. 'You get through it,' he told her. He patted her hand. 'It’s not so much that it goes away... but you get used to it. And it doesn’t seem so monstrous, so overwhelming. You learn to cope.' He lifted one shoulder. 'Just like they do.'

She sat silent for a while, looking at their hands. He made no effort to release her, and she didn’t pull away either. At last her eyes came back up to his.

'I haven’t been able to play in months,' she admitted. Tears appeared in her eyes, and she drew away from him to reach for her napkin. A moment later, she was crying. Adam left his side of the booth and slid onto her bench, wrapping an arm about her slender shoulders and pulling her into his chest. She cried into him, a hot, damp weight against his collar, and he gently rubbed the back of her neck and her shoulders until the storm passed. It wasn’t long, only intense; she must have been holding it in for some time, he thought.

She offered a watery laugh when she straightened, dabbing at her face. 'I must be the worst Immortal ever,' she said. 'God. Do you know I don’t even carry a sword?'

That surprised him. 'Does MacLeod know that?'

'I convinced him that I needed to feel mortal to make music.' She shook her head in bitter amusement. 'I didn’t realise I’d spend the next decade terrified every time I hear that—- that awful buzzing sound. Walter took a Challenge for me once. I was so scared that he would die because I was a stubborn little bitch. Thank God he won, but even that was awful.'

A glance at the clock over the bar decided him. He stood, and offered her his hand up. 'Would you agree to go somewhere with me?'

'Somewhere—- like out of London?' She accepted his help out of the booth, clutching her little handbag and grabbing her coat off the hook at their booth.

'Not very far out. My house.'

'You have a house here? Not a flat?' He assisted her into the coat as well, and she buttoned it tightly across her flat stomach. 'Everything I see here is either a palace or an apartment.'

He smiled. 'It’s a house.' They moved toward the door together, and back out into the street. 'It’s a bit of a drive into the city, but it’s worth having the solitude and the space.'

When she followed him out of the pub, her hand rested over his for a moment.

 

**

 

He opened the chest and removed the top drawer, lifting it out and setting it aside. The second drawer held three tightly wrapped bundles, and he took the middle one. He flipped back the oilcloth and looked down at a weapon he hadn’t seen for a good century. It was in good condition, as were all the swords he chose to keep on, if a little dull. He climbed back to his feet and turned.

Claudia stood at the mantle, holding a picture. She turned it to him as he joined her. 'This is her, isn’t it?' she asked.

He took the frame. It was himself with Alexa, a sunset picture—- the Grand Canyon. She’d used a dozen rolls of film. He didn’t remember posing for the shot, but he remembered the moment, thinking that her waist was so fragile in the crook of his arm, that her hair was thinning and he could feel the breath rattling in her. Remembered how desperately he’d loved her, that stage just before accepting that she was going to die and he wouldn’t.

He placed it back on the mantle carefully, in the spot defined by dust marks. 'Her name is Alexa,' he said. 'Alexa Bond.'

'Not Pierson?' Claudia searched his face. 'You weren’t married?'

'She didn’t want to.' He wiped at a line of grey on the wood, brushed it off on his shirt. 'She thought it would be too hard for me to move on, if we were more than just some crazy fling.'

'But she was wrong,' Claudia said softly. 'Wasn’t she?'

He forced himself to smile. 'It didn’t really make a difference. She was my wife in every way that mattered. It just wasn’t official.'

The awkward moment passed as Claudia turned her attention to the sword he held. 'What’s that?' she asked briskly.

He held it out, flat across both palms. 'A woman’s blade. It belonged to a friend, about... I think it was 1816. She had it made especially for her.' He watched Claudia take it, handling it like it would break. He corrected her grip, and stepped back while she swung carefully. 'This,' he explained, pointing, 'is the tang. It lessens the weight of the sword while maintaining the balance. And the grip is smaller, made for a smaller palm, shorter fingers.'

Claudia looked up at him. 'A friend?' she said shrewdly.

Adam grinned at her. 'Friend,' he repeated mildly. 'She was taller than you, but I think it will work quite nicely.' He watched surprise work across her face. 'Yes,' he forestalled. 'I want you to have it.'

'But something like this—- this is an antique. And it’s beautiful. It must be worth hundreds, thousands of dollars—'

'So are you.' She pursed her lips. He lifted a hand. 'Say, "Thank you, Adam. It’s a princely gift."'

A small, unwilling smile stole over her mouth. She covered it with a hand for a moment; then she tossed her hair, her curls bouncing, and laughed. 'Thank you, Adam,' she said sincerely. 'It is a princely gift.'

The atmosphere was notably lighter, and he took the opportunity to remove the sword back to its oilcloth. 'You’ll have to learn to use it,' he added.

She stayed at his side as he finished wrapping the sword and began to look through the chest for a scabbard. 'Question,' she said. 'How do I get away with walking around with this thing?'

'Mac never told you?' Adam shook his head. 'It’s difficult to explain—- or easy, I don’t know. You wear a coat over it. That’s all.'

'And no-one notices that I’ve got a huge sword?'

'Exactly.' He saw her skepticism. 'Did you notice mine?' he asked.

Claudia blinked. 'No,' she said. 'Actually, I didn’t. And I never saw Duncan or Walter carry one either.'

'It’s a gift unique to Immortals,' he said. 'I believe that it happens because the sword is the most important part of an Immortal’s life. Somehow the ability to carry the weapon comes with the deal.'

'So mortals don’t see them?'

'Unless they know what to look for. The sword hides itself. They just... don’t notice.'

He could all but see the wheels turning in her mind, and was pleased by the insightfulness of her next question, fired rapidly. 'What about metal detectors? X-rays? Airports?'

'I suggest that if you have to fly you check your sword at the gate,' he answered, grinning. 'You’re not terribly likely to have to fight for your life at cruising altitude. Other Immortals want to land safely just as much as you do.' He found the scabbard, and handed the set back to Claudia. She seated herself on his couch with both on her lap, her slender fingers tracing the pommel. He sat beside her, crossing his ankles and linking his hands over his stomach.

'Why not use a gun?'

'Because a guy with a blade can move faster than you can.' She raised an eyebrow. 'Seriously,' he said, sitting up and miming drawing a gun. 'A gun has to be strapped in to the holster. In the time it takes you to unsnap the lock, draw the gun, flip the safety and aim, he’s already stabbed you.'

Her shoulders slumped. 'So the only option is learning how to use a sword?'

He dropped back against the arm of the couch, considering her thin frame. 'I think you should,' he said finally. 'But maybe a gun as a back-up isn’t a bad idea. Especially until you’re comfortable fencing. We can get one.'

Her dark eyes widened and her hands went still. 'You said "we,"' she whispered.

He had, he realised. But somehow it didn’t feel monumental or disappointing or regrettable. He smiled. 'I did.'

Her eyes looked a little watery, but she didn’t give in. 'Thank you,' she said evenly. 'That means more than you can know. I—- barely even know you, but you’ve been so kind.'

'It’s no particular hardship.'

From the front hallway, the chime of a clock announced that it was nearing one in the morning. 'I can get you back to your hotel,' he offered.

Claudia hesitated. Uncertainly, she said, 'Actually, can I... stay here? If it isn’t too much trouble.' Lamely, she added, 'Your home is so beautiful.'

'It’s no trouble,' he assured her gently. 'And—- it’ll be nice not to have it so empty.' Her smile was instantaneous, and lovely. He watched the transformation of a timid, unhappy girl into a woman, and wondered what he was getting himself into. But he smiled back.


End file.
